


Haven

by UglyWettieWrites



Category: Bad Samaritan (2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Play, Drama, Erotic Games, Erotica, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Master/Slave, Mystery, Psychological Horror, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyWettieWrites/pseuds/UglyWettieWrites
Summary: 14 Years AgoValkenberg is free again and ready to start living his own life away from the clutches of his tyrannical parents. Despite his repeated stays in mental institutions, he has certain tastes that lead him down a dark path, and there, in a seedy sex club in Portland, he meets a young woman who slowly but surely shows him his true destiny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you watched the film, you know that Cale is a sociopath. A violent sociopath, who can barely keep up the smooth mask of civility he wears.
> 
> I know I don't have to say that his actions in this story are reprehensible - not only the worst possible example of how to lead the BDSM lifestyle, but how to act in general - but I will, just to be sure. He is a monster, and that's how I've written him. This is not a cutesy redemption arc. He says and does very bad things. If, fair reader, you are triggered by frank depictions of verbal or physical abuse, and if horror or psychological drama isn't your jam, you should click out now.
> 
> But why would you? You watched the film, and you're here for more. Just ... fair warning.

“How was everything, Mr. Valkenberg?” the young woman at reception asked. He eyed her sourly. Her hair, loose and frizzy, poofed around her head in a bob. Her lemon yellow highlights made his mouth water with disgust. She was messy.

“Passable,” he said, taking back his black card and putting it in his wallet. It gave him pleasure to see the girl’s mouth move silently. Her tiny pig eyes bugged out.

“Sir, if there is anything additional we can do next time to make your stay more pleasant-”

He held his hand up. She stopped talking immediately. He smoothed the front of his shirt.

“That won’t be necessary, because I will not be coming back,” he said. The girl’s eyes watered.

“Please, Mr. Valkenberg. I will get the manager. We will make it right, no matter what!” She waved her arm wildly at the beautifully suited woman approaching, curious about the intense conversation. She took one look at Valkenberg and she put on her most unctuous grin.

“Hello, sir. I trust you enjoyed your stay in your eponymous suite?” The receptionist’s eyes bugged out further.

“No, madam, I did not,” he said, squaring up. The woman’s face twitched.

“May I ask why? We strive to give every single one of our guests-”

Again, he held his hand up for silence. The manager’s mouth snapped shut.

“Dust. In the carpets, and on the windowsills and shelves. The sheets were unironed, and dubious at best. The sink had fingerprints, and there was mold-” he got really close to her, and his brown eyes widened with indignation -”slimy black mold in the shower. The amenities are black marble, but that does not mean they don’t need to be properly scrubbed and sanitized.”

The woman’s face steadily got redder and redder, but she remained quiet. He got steadily angrier as he spoke.

“Just because we’re in a backwoods wilderness does not give your establishment carte blanche to cut corners,” he hissed. “Especially after how much I paid for one night. It’s disgusting.”

“Sir, I deeply apologize for our negligence. At least three generations of Valkenbergs have stayed in our hotel when visiting the Pacific Northwest in that very suite, and we are determined to make it memorable.”

His eyes drifted to the woman fidgeting by the sitting area. She took off her stilettos and rubbed her raw toes on the oriental carpet. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. His mouth twisted with displeasure.

Uncultured bitch.

“Sir? I will run a strict evaluation of all our current staff, and remove those who…”

He walked to his ward and pointed down at the floor. “Put your shoes back on. Now!”

She gave him a vacuous look. Pretty face, empty eyes. “But these shoes are too small. They’re killing me, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” he said. “Your feet will adjust. You will not walk around in public barefoot. You’re not a hobo. Or are you? A dirty, uncouth homeless bitch with a pretty pretty face?” He gave her a condescending smile.

She bit her lip.

“You can keep them off if you like. If so, this stops now. You can find your own way home. No treats for you.”

She sucked in breath, and for a second, he thought she would tell him where to go and stalk off. Pleasure flooded his limbs when she nodded and put on the purposefully uncomfortable shoes.

“Wise choice,” he said, and patted her long, silky red hair. When the manager turned away to speak to the receptionist, he slid his fingers in the hair at the back of her head and pulled firmly. She gasped, and her blue eyes went cloudy as the pain aroused her. He let go and wiped his hand on his pants. There was once a time when that look would make his cock hard almost immediately. But it wasn’t working so well anymore, which made him meaner.

He was feeling very mean right now. He watched as the woman sat down, and waited five beats.

“Get your ass up. You did not ask permission to sit,” he said. His voice was quiet, but laced with just the right amount of venom. She popped up, and her face twitched with pain. Tears rimmed her lovely cornflower eyes. He stepped on her foot, putting his whole weight on it. She bit back a groan, and the water in her eyes threatened to spill over. “Don’t you dare ruin your makeup with pointless tears. You don’t want to look a mess, do you?”

“No,” she breathed. He moved his foot, and she exhaled slowly. When her eyes focused in his face, they were full of surrender. She wanted validation. He did an about face, and the manager and receptionist pretended they didn’t see a thing.

“Get my car. My ward is aching to get out of here,” he said to the manager. She called the valet service and avoided his gaze.  He walked to to the revolving doors, not looking back. The woman limped behind him, but she knew not to call out. She caught up to him as the valet brought his midnight blue Aston Martin Vanquish around.

She smiled. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t get the car to impress silly twats like her. He got the car because he appreciated the gracefulness of its lines, and the almost nonexistent purr of the engine. It was a mechanical marvel, a paragon of order. Now, she almost ruined it. It irritated him.

The valet opened the passenger’s side door for her. Just as she stepped inside, he snapped his fingers.

“You. In the back,” he said. Without a word of protest, she slid into the narrow backseat. He squinted up at the miraculously blue sky, and put sunglasses on before sliding into the driver’s seat. The valet bent at the window, silently waiting for a tip. He didn’t even look at him as he peeled off. They drove for ten minutes in silence before he spoke. She knew not to speak unless spoken to.

“What was that little display at the hotel?” She fidgeted in the seat, since her long legs didn’t quite fit. “Be still!” he screamed. He breathed deeply through his nose.

“May I answer, Mr. V?” she said softly.

“I’m almost out of patience with you. Yes. And it better be good.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m selfish.”

Her eyes searched for his in the rear view mirror. A mix of fear, shame, and lust made her flush. He was mean. And he was beautiful, rich, and young. She searched for years for a man like him, and he found her, modeling for the local fetish scene. He wasn’t afraid to go pitch dark. His viciousness fed her, and she failed him. A fat, mascara-gray tear rolled down her cheek. He groaned in disappointment.

“I was selfish, because it wasn’t just about me,” she said. “The training. The shoes.”

“Uhuh?” he said.

“You weren’t putting all your attention on me, so I thought I could get away with it. I’m sorry.” She thought back on her long night alone. He had fondled and spanked and edged her until she writhed with lust, then her chained to the feet of the California king in the hotel and went away without a word. He left just enough slack for her to reach the toilet. Barely.

“And why is it wrong?”

“Because I should obey even if you’re not around.”

“It can’t be helped. You’re a stupid girl, and stupid girls do stupid things.”

Her face twitched. “Stupid?”

“Yes, pet. Very.” He drove toward the mountains. “For example, you got in this car.”

He gave him yet another vacuous look. His cheeks trembled with laughter.

“Hmmm?” she said.

“I said, you are stupid because you got into this car with me today,” he said, enunciating each word clearly. “Have you got shit in your ears? It wouldn’t surprise me.”

She sniffled, and another tear dripped off her chin. His cock twitched. His appetite sharpened as the small cabin of the car filled with the jungle heat of her copious tears.

“Take off your panties and give them to me,” he said. The tires hummed on the road.

She pulled them off and handed him the tiny bit of lace. He rubbed his thumb on the crotch, and it was slippery. He pressed them to his face and took a deep breath. They were musky with her intense arousal.

“Greedy whore,” he said softly, and threw them on the passenger’s seat, where there was also a cattle prod. But it wasn’t for her. She had not earned it yet. Today, he would figure out whether she was worth the effort, time, and training.

She opened her legs wide and stroked herself for him. Her bare feet rested on the headrests as she spread for his gaze. He stiffened.

“Get your filthy fucking hooves off the goddamned leather!” he yelled. The tires screeched as he took a hairpin turn at 45 mph. She screamed and closed her legs. He stopped in the side of the road near the trees and got out of the car. She stared out the open door, bugeyed.

“Jesus Christ, bitch, get the fuck out of the car already,” he said through his teeth.

“But, there’s snow on the ground and I don’t have a coat on,” she said.

“Both great observations, pet. Get out. And don’t you dare put on the Louboutins. They’re worth more than your life,” he said.

Actual fear gripped her. She wondered whether he meant to leave her there, and make her walk back to where there was cell service on bare feet. She would freeze first. The game was getting too challenging, even for her.

“Please, baby. It’s cold. I’m sorry. I thought you would like it,” she said. Her voice trembled, and her pretty face crumpled into ugly tears. Blood rushed to his cock.

“All valid points, but irrelevant to the current situation,” he said softly, bending to look in the car. “Come here.” He smiled at her warmly. She scooted near him and reached out to touch his face. When she got close, he slapped her hand away and grabbed a handful of hair near her scalp and pulled excruciatingly hard. She swallowed a scream as he pulled her out of the car. Her feet splashed into a freezing, muddy puddle.

Her eyes rolled in her head, and she bared her teeth with fear. Something stirred in him. His body shivered as memories he longed to quiet slammed into him. Terror. Cold. Lust flooded his mouth with the taste of iron. He panted and held her fast as she struggled against his grip.

“Down,” he said. His tongue was sluggish. “Down to the cold ground, where you belong.” He twisted his fist, and she fell to her knees. Mud painted her pale blue thighs. He saw flashes of red. From a muzzle. From flesh. The screams were so loud. How quickly his childhood ended, and something else began. The terror wasn’t only theirs. It was his to carry as well. And he carried it still.

His knuckles were white in her bright russet head. He didn’t feel her, and came back to himself. She cried softly in the mud, but her eyes were glued to his hips. The front of his pants stretched with an almost painful erection. For a second, the lust in her gaze felt alien to him. Unwelcome. She didn’t know him. She didn’t deserve to know him. She would suffer for making him remember, and hurt.

Her teeth chattered, and the the fog lifted slowly. The malaise faded.

“I’m f-freez--z-ing, Mr. V-v,” she said. Her eyes still caressed the bulge in his pants. He thrust his hips forward. She licked her lips.

“Would you swallow me, right here, still in the mud?” he asked. He squeezed himself over his pants.

“I would do what you want, where you want,” she said. Her mouth was pink and wet with hungry saliva. He stepped close enough for her to nuzzle his bulge. When she dared, he backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side. His cock throbbed.

“Try it again,” he said softly. His hand stung. He turned his back to the road and unzipped. She whimpered as she saw, then smelled him. His thick cock was veiny with need. The crown was purple and aching for her mouth. Her head darted forward again. He backhanded her with his other hand.

“Not quick enough,” he said, and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and stroked up. Precum beaded, then dripped off. She extended her tongue to catch it, and he pushed her head back roughly and grunted. “No.”

She watched as he jerked quickly. His foreskin swallowed the tip of his cock rhythmically, and her mouth watered. She wanted to swallow it. With her mouth. Her cunt. Her ass. She forgot the cold.

“Let me try again,” she said. Her voice was rough. “Please.”

He stopped jerking and took a step closer. His heat made her lips tingle. He cupped his balls and drummed his fingers on the underside until another pearly bead appeared at his peeslit.

“It’s so hot,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

“Hot,” she repeated. She took a deep breath. Her face darted forward. He slapped her mouth with a grunt. There was a sharp flash of pain, and she tasted copper. Red dribbled from the corner of her mouth. His eyes went dark, and he swirled his thumb on the tip of his cock then pressed it into her bruised lips. She gasped and licked it with half closed eyes. He rubbed, then pinched the torn skin where her teeth cut into her lip. Fresh blood and saliva bathed his fingers.

“So obliging, the human body,” he said. Pink streaked his cock as he twistED his saliva-slick fist on his cock. He guided her head right beneath his hard cock. She whimpered and opened her mouth wide. Even if he didn’t use her mouth, she could still taste him. He looked as her as he stroked, eyes focused on her mouth.

If he wanted blood, she would give it to him. She licked, then bit, willing herself to bleed more. Red dripped to her chin. He grunted, and his fist twisted in her hair. His balls tightened. She shivered, but with need. Seeing his face crumple with pleasure was worth the mud and pain. Even if he streaked the brown with white instead of her pink. Even if he didn’t let her wash the brown off. His eyelids were heavy, and he licked his lips. His fist pumped just inches from her face. The crown of his cock was creamy with precum. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.

Just the sight, and the sound. Worth it.

“Do you want it?” he panted.

“Yes,” she said, opening her mouth wide.

“Wallowing in filth, but you’re still greedy,” he said. She nodded. He stopped stroking and stuffed his cock back into his pants.

“Nooo,” she said.

He gave her a sharp look. “There you go again with the squeaking!” he said. She stopped and waited as he popped the trunk. There were rolls of clear plastic and a bag of groceries, which she assumed was for them. He pulled out a rough horse blanket and threw it over the back seat of the car. “Get inside. If you get mud on my upholstery, you will decidedly not enjoy what I do to you, do you hear me?”

She brushed away the worst of the sludge, then carefully got into the car. He took off with the steering wheel in a death grip. She started to clean herself with the blanket.

“Don’t do that!” he said, leaning over to slap her. “You’ll ruin the blanket.” The ice-cold mud made her shiver, but she kept her eyes on him as they ascended the unfamiliar mountain road. His dark hair was thick and soft, combed back from a widow’s peak she thought was just as distinctive as a beauty mark. His brown eyes were intense, and glowed amber in the heat of passion … but she hadn’t tasted him in days. He was gone the night before, and left her chained to the radiator of the hotel room, with just enough slack to let her use the bathroom. He didn’t tell her where he went, and she didn’t ask. She just wanted to feel him fucking through her, slamming his hips into her as he pulled on her arm restraints hard enough to make her shoulders creak. She wanted to see his face dissolve into feral lust, for his lips to disappear as he growled filth into her skin. She traced the sharp line of his jaw with her gaze, and her fingers twitched to trace his plump lower lip. His body was long and lean and deceptively strong, and he looked so tense…

She sat back and let her mind wander on the pleasures in store. His gaze met hers in the rearview mirror.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. He turned up the heat.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do I make you wet?” he said, licking his lips.

“Yes,” she said, and sighed.

“Of course I do,” he said lightly. He wrinkled his nose. “You stink like shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You should be, leaving me hard like this,” he said. He squeezed his still half-hard cock. She groaned. “But you’re untrained. You don’t listen.” Color rose in his cheeks.

“I will be better,” she said.

“Will you, though? It’s been three months, and you’re not learning,” he said. “I know your face has gotten you this far, but I require more than dumb and pretty. You have no idea how angry it makes me when you don’t obey.”

She shook her head.

“I’m beginning to wonder whether maybe I should just turn the car around and drop you off at your sweet mama’s house-”

“No! Please don’t! I-I-I love you. I don’t want to go back,” she wailed, clinging at him with mud-caked fingers.

“Fuck!” He wrested her hands from the flawless white lawn of his shirt. “You useless cow!” He stopped the car and went into the trunk again. Before she could make a sound, he pushed the front seat forward and got in beside her. “Sheet over your head,” he said calmly.

“Wha-!”

He yanked the sheet from under her and threw it over her, then started to wrap something around her. It made ripping sounds. Duct tape. She squirmed and complained, but he silenced her with a punch to the ribs.

“Be still, and breathe deep. This wool’s thick,” he whispered at her head. She lay back like a wrapped stave of wood. He patted her head. “Good girl.”

He whistled as he got back into the driver’s seat. They were almost there.

* * *

She breathed carefully, just as he instructed. The wool looked like it might smell musty, but it had a much stranger scent. She sniffed quietly, and tried to think.

It was far from animalic, and it didn’t smell like his distinctive cologne. It smelled fresh. Plant matter. Grass, with an interesting metallic note. Was it rust? Fresh rainwater, maybe. The car turned into a side road, and she bounced uncomfortably in the backseat.

“We’re almost there,” he said as the road smoothed again. “I can’t wait.”

She remained silent.

“I think you’re in for one of the most intense experiences of your life. I was here last night to prepare it,” he said. His voice had temporarily lost its edge. She smiled underneath the horse blanket. He cared about her - at least, enough to come all the way to the ass end of the world to prepare the cabin for them. The car stopped, and he got out. There were crunching footsteps, and a door opened.

She wondered what the place looked like. Considering his tastes, it was most probably like something from a fancy house magazine.

She giggled.

She imagined a woodland cabin with way too much glass and not enough wood. A place with gas fireplaces and multiple bathrooms. She didn’t like roughing it. At least, not that way.

She chuckled.

“What are you giggling about?” he said. He guided her out of the car. Her bare feet ached on the cold gravel.

“Nothing, really. Um, I’m excited to see it,” she said.

“Watch the threshold,” he squeezed her upper arm painfully as she stepped inside. The door closed behind her.

“Come on,” he said. Something was off. She imagined an expansive housefront. Multiple steps. But there was none of that. There was just gravel, then a cold floor that creaked under her feet. And the air was musty, even through the blanket. She sniffed.

There was the regular mustiness - the scent of things put away too long and not aired out long enough - but, again, there was something else underneath it that made made her muscles tight.

“Sit,” he said tersely, and pushed her into a chair.

“Oof!” she cried. The chair was hard wood. He walked off, and she heard a door close. She concentrated. He turned on a stereo. It was classical music. She couldn’t say much else - it all sounded the same to her. His shoes ground on the rough floor, and there were metallic clinks. Her body reacted to it.

Oddly, he was so quiet coming back that she jumped when he ripped off the duct tape.

“Settle. It’s time to clean up,” he said, and pulled the blanket from her head. She looked around, and her face fell so obviously that he let out a delighted giggle. “What did you expect, princess? Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright?”

She took a deep breath. “Isn’t that the musical guy?” she said and blew the damp hair from her forehead. His lips narrowed with disgust - other than in the bedroom, profuse sweat was distasteful.

He shook his head as he neatly rolled the duct tape and threw it into a nearby bin. “No, he’s not. You don’t like my cabin?” His face looked almost hurt.

“Oh … no. I mean, yeah, it’s great,” she said quickly as she shook off the blanket. With the car heater, the mud on the bottoms of her legs was both crusty and sticky.

“You’re a shitty liar,” he said, gathering the blanket and walking to the front door to shake it out. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s my safe haven - the only place I can be myself.  That’s its name. Haven.”

“Heaven, huh?” she said, looking up at the ceiling. It was low, and criscrossed with unvarnished wood beams. Motes of dust from the blanket floated in a beam of sunlight.

He rolled his eyes. “I suppose. For me, at least,” he said softly as he closed the door.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces begin to fall into place for the game.

He clapped once, and she stood up straight, waiting for his command.

“ You will clean yourself,” he said, then did an about face. She followed him without a word into a small bathroom. The walls were rough cedar, but the room was fitted with a proper tub, and multiple bottles of very expensive toiletries gleamed on the shelves in the shower.

“ Yes, Mr. V,” she said, and shed her stained dress.

He gave her an appreciative glance, then looked in the mirror. He frowned at the muddy fingerprints on his shoulder, and started unbuttoning his shirt. She turned on the shower, and he stomped his foot hard on the floor. She jumped.

“ You’re absolutely filthy. How did you surmise that a shower would be enough?” he said, and turned off the water. He grabbed a big handful of her hair and guided her to the clawfoot tub at the other side of the bathroom, in front of a window. Involuntary tears of pain streaked her muddy cheek. He gave her another long look, his eyes soft. A muddy tear dripped on the pristine white of the tub.

“ I’m sorry, Mr. V,” she said, and sniffled. Her vision was blurry with pain, but her eyes still lingered on the line of his neck, and his chest. His nipples were taut with the cold. Or maybe, with arousal. She licked her lips. He slapped her back to the present.

“ Greedy twat. You’d live with your legs open if you could,” he hissed, and tugged at her exposed nipples. She moaned and arched. He slapped her again, then waited to see the bloom of rose on her cheek. He got really close. “You would’ve leapt on any rich dick that walked into the club that night, hmmm?” he said. He cocked his head to the side, and she realized he was waiting for a response. Her scalp was on fire.

“ No,” she said, and hiccuped. “That ain’t true. That’s not why I wanted you,” she said, still managing to shake her head. She blinked the tears from her eyes. “Not even close.”

He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants with one hand. “Do you even remember? You were on something. Molly, or coke and too much voddy.”

“ Yeah, I had a little somethin’ that night, but I remember everything,” she said. Her neck was starting to hurt more than her scalp, but her mind was clear. “You walked into that miserable shithole and shut it down. No one else mattered, even though no one knew who you were.”

“ Language,” he said softly. His fist loosened in her hair.

She looked up at him. “Sorry. But even in the hoodie and the sneakers, you were more man than anyone in there.”

He blinked. He didn’t remember looking like a hobo. It was true, though. He just got out of Whispering Pines, and the clothes he came in was too small. Not because he was wider, but because he was physically bigger. He had grown 2 inches during his 4 years in the void. He bought what he could in town with the ready cash Mitchell wired him, but he wasn’t pleased. Portland had its charms, but it wasn’t the place to find a proper tailor at the drop of a dime. Or a proper car. He rented an heirloom BMW whose interior emanated the faint scent of cigarette smoke that refused to wash off. The memory made his skin crawl.

She cleared her throat to get his attention, and sat on the rim of the tub. “You muscled your way to the front of the crowd in front of the catwalk and even in the sweats, no one dared to push back,” she said, smiling faintly. “Tall and slim, with the darkest, hungriest eyes I’ve ever seen.” She dared to touch his leg. He let her.

“ You looked good enough to eat,” he said, lost in the memory. Her brow rose. He rarely gave compliments. “And I was starving.” He let go of her hair, and his hand rested on her neck.

“ You did a lot of eating that night,” she said, giggling as her hand moved up the inside of his leg.

He backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side, and she yelped.

“ Don’t be crude,” he said. “You have an hour to get yourself together.” Even though he frowned down at her, he didn’t move. She recognized the look.

“ I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him adoringly. Her hand was halfway up his thigh. “I’m filthy.”

“ I will correct you,” he said, and caressed her now stringy red hair from her forehead. She tingled with lust. Correction usually meant violence. And she craved it. She clung to his pant leg.

“ Mr. V,” she said softly. The ironed wool of his pants balled in her fist. “Let me serve you. I was presumptuous earlier, on the road.”

“ Presumptuous,” he said, and clicked his tongue. “That’s a big word.”

“ You’re teaching me,” she said, daring to rest her chin on his belly.

He smiled and pressed his hands to her cheeks. She smiled back at him, leaning into his touch.

“ Don’t get too excited,” he said, letting her go. “I’m just checking to see if your little brain’s overheated.”

She snorted. She was used to his barbs.

“ It might be a little warm,” she said, and stuck her tongue out. He dared to caress her again. Now, the dried mud flaking off her skin didn’t look quite so repulsive.

“ You want to serve me?” he said softly.

Her crystal eyes flashed with lust. “Yes.”

He guided her hand to his cock. “But how can I give such a disobedient thing a treat without correction first?”

She squeezed. His eyes burned. “Correct me. Please.”

He backhanded her again and pushed her against the wall, his hand a vise on her neck.

“ You don’t tell me what I should or should not do,” he said, watching as her face reddened from lack of air. Her hand still found its way into his fly and squeezed. His grip loosened. She bit her lip as she pulled his cock out of his underwear and stroked it. He was already dripping with the game. She gently pulled him closer until his erection kissed her belly. He sighed as she got on tiptoes and it slid easily between her slick thighs.

He hissed. “Whore,” he said tenderly, then suddenly wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to her knees. In his other hand, there was a bamboo bath brush. The shaft was long, and slightly curved. It looked vicious. Her pussy throbbed. She stared at his cock, completely unabashed with lust.

“ You want it?” he said, wrapping his fingers around her throat again.

“ Mmmmm,” she said, nodding. “I'm so wet.”

“ Slut,” he said, and kicked her legs further apart. He moved his leg between hers, pressing his knee into her belly. She looked up at him. “Whores take what they can get.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She started to grind on his leg, making eager sounds. He had not allowed her to come in days, and she was about to burst. He tipped her face up to meet his gaze.

“ Dirty, dirty pet,” he said, tracing her cheekbone … then spit on her face. She didn’t lose her rhythm, and her tongue darted out, seeking saliva. He pinched her lips closed viciously and spit on her again, then wiped it roughly on her face. His pant leg was soaked through with her wetness. Her tits bounced with her eagerness, and his cock swelled. He wanted to use her, so badly. His hackles went up. He raised his arm high and struck her with the brush. She cried out and twitched with agony, but her hips didn’t stop their bucking. His muscles tightened with lust, and it fired his anger. He struck her again and again, on her hips and thighs until she was crisscrossed in red. Her spit slick face was a rictus of agony and pleasure. It was too much. He might not be able to resist. He finished unbuttoning his pants and pulled down his underwear and grabbed a handful of her hair.

“ Open your stupid hole,” he said, and she opened her mouth wide. Instead of sliding his cock in, he stepped back and shoved her face hard into the bottom of his leg, where his pants clung to his skin with her juices. Stars danced behind her closed eyelids as her nose cartilage crunched against his shin. He bent low and gave her a baleful look.

“ Look at what you’ve done to my bespoke three season wool,” he said, painfully rubbing her face into the wet spot. He tugged on her hair. She shivered, and he pressed the head of the brush on the small of her back, making her arch hard. “Made in Milan. You’ve never been to Milan,” he continued. His cock wept precum. Her trembling was making him ache.

“ No,” she said softly. Bloody mucus dripped from her nose. She licked it from her upper lip, a gorgeously, horribly animal thing.

“Because you’re trash,” he said gently. “Pretty trash from the wrong side of town.” Her lips trembled. “Aren’t you?” he said. “Ever since your mommy shit you out between shifts at an I-84 truck stop,” he said, nodding.

Her tears dripped on his shoes.

“ Even your tears are filthy,” he said. He wiped them off on the bath carpet. “You’re not worth the effort it would take to correct you,” he said, and she sprung into action, hugging his legs and weeping lustily.

“ Please! I won’t be greedy anymore! Like you said, I’m garbage. I need to be taught-” she said, and it tapered into a howl. He looked down at her, his face twisted with bewilderment. It always surprised him how much most women would take from a man like him. Especially now, that he knew better. Her face was mottled and red with passion. “Don’t leave me, Mr. V. I’ll be better. I love you...”

He shook her off with shock. “Shut up! Don’t say that,” he said sharply. She swallowed her sobs and swayed gently on her knees. “All you’re good for is your holes, but you’re horrible at keeping your mouth closed.” He finished taking off his shirt and laid it neatly on a nearby counter.

She cried, swaying gently on her knees and hugging herself. He stared at her in the mirror. She was healthy, and despite his constant humiliation, she was resilient. His heart jackhammered in his chest, despite his calm expression. Soon, her real training would begin, and she would become acquainted with her true purpose. His hands trembled in the steaming water as he washed her muddy tears off. He was … unsettled. But he trusted in the method. In himself. In her.

A dull throbbing brought him back to the present. His cock was still hard. It had been days, and he was bursting. A shiver ran up his spine. He turned to look at the girl again. Her tears were beginning to dissolve his will. They streaked down to her breasts and down, where her smooth, hairless mound was red and swollen with friction. His tongue swelled with the desire to taste.

She noticed his penetrating stare and reached out to him. Her fingers slid on the wet tip of his cock, and his knees nearly buckled with the pleasure of it. What did it matter if he allowed himself a well-deserved release?

He canted his hips toward her. She crawled closer, and wrapped her hand around his cock.

“ Mouth!” he barked, and she nodded and obeyed, opening wide and taking him in. She moaned into him, then gripped him and ran her expert tongue from base to crown, her eyes rolled back in her head with hunger. He twitched. She felt it and took him to the back of her throat, hoping he would mouthfuck his orgasm into her, like he had done so many times before. Her groan was muffled with swollen flesh. He vibrated with pleasure. His hand clenched into a fist in her bobbing head. She slurped noisily between his legs, then laved his taut testicles with her tongue. He saw himself bursting powerfully into her face. He felt the fading heat of his seed as he rubbed it roughly into her face, watched it seep slowly from between her red lips.

She tasted his impending orgasm and moaned, quickening her suck and swirl.

He wanted it. He earned it. Regardless of the training – maybe because of it. He’d gotten them this far. Soon, everything would be clear. Perfection would be made manifest-

Three dull thuds in the other room took them both out of it. She looked up at him.

“ Is there someone else here?” she said sharply, forgetting her veil of submission. His eyes narrowed, and his heart was rushing again. It’s as if she knew. _She knew_ -

He let out a lumbering yell and ran out of the bathroom. He was naked and painfully erect, as as he passed the massive cage in the living room, there was a sharp hiss. He stopped suddenly, like a deer in headlights. She didn’t deign to come out of the shadows.

“ Weak,” she said. She didn’t look at him, focusing on the small window. “Temperature’s dropping. Snow’s come.” Her voice was a whisper, due to the large box strapped to her throat. If it got over a certain volume, the electric shock would render her unconscious.

“ You miserable cunt!” he yelled. He charged at the bars, shaking them. Her eyes met his, but they were only cold pinpoints of light in the darkness. He hissed and reached out to her, his hand a raking claw. She turned back to the window.

“ It’s coming in heavy,” she said. Her fingers tapped out a beat on the metal frame of the army cot shoved into the far corner of the cage. He exhaled hard, and pulled his arm from between the bars. Despite his anger, he was even harder than before. He took several steps toward the door, then ran back and slapped the bars, teeth bared. He screamed, hoping the box would pick it up and shock her quiet.

“ Cold centers you, you know,” she said. “It makes you realize what’s really important, really quickly.”

His breaths were quick and shallow with anger. His eyes rolled in his sockets, seeking out the shadow of her face. But she didn’t look his way.

“ Is that so? Because you will feel the cold soon enough,” he growled.

“ So will we all,” she said, and turned to face the wall, blocking him out completely.

“Bitch !” he yelled, and stumbled out the room.

The girl snuck very quickly back to the bathroom and closed the door. Her hands trembled as she slowly turned the knob so it wouldn’t click, then sat on the toilet, hugging herself.

_What had the fuck she gotten herself into now?_

* * *

 

He stepped outside and groaned as the fresh snow dusted his bare feet.

Cold. Bitter, merciless cold.

His eyes darted around, and he rushed to the woodbox attached to the side of the cabin. It was covered in at least eight inches of fresh snow, and he sat down hard. The ice crunched underneath him, and the intense shock of it on his naked skin made him groan and shiver. He focused on the lavender and saffron of the setting sky between the hundred-year pines. His cock shrunk, and the disturbing pop and hiss of his thoughts quieted as the cold sank down to his bones.

There's no doubt the girl saw it. There's no stopping it now.

It's begun.

 


End file.
